Blind
by Campy Capybara
Summary: WIP:: A Potions accident leaves Hermione temporarily blind. What if Malfoy were bound by magical law to watch over the welfare of his saviour? DHr
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.****

**Blind **

"I'm _blind_—not _stupid_!" Hermione Granger lashed out in heated frustration.

The Slytherin charged with her care glared furiously into the empty caramel eyes of the stubborn witch. His menacing sneer was an ineffective retaliation to the Gryffindor's words, but the threat laced in the low timbre of his voice was.

"Granger," he took his time to enunciate, "I am aware that you are frustrated right now," he spoke slowly, in a patronising tone, which did little to placate the angry girl, "but Dumbledore has put you under my watch, and like it or _not_—" he emphasised, "—you _will_ have dinner here, you _will_ eat the chicken I cut for you, and you _will_ do it without further displays of childish wilfulness!"

For a long moment, silence reigned in the Head Pupils' quarters, as silent wills battled for dominance in the room. Quicksilver eyes stared at the defiant posture of the seated Head Girl. Draco Malfoy knew that Granger was too stubborn to cry; even though he could see the effort it took for the muggleborn witch to stay the tremor of her downturn lips. Her face was tilted upwards to his, and she instinctively blinked her eyes to keep her tears at bay.

She must know that the situation they were in was not his choice! If only someone else had pushed him away from that botched potion! If only he had not walked by the Granger-Longbottom cauldron at that precise moment! If only the ingredient for Granger's antidote would be available all year round, instead of only on Beltane, which was four whole months away! If only… Well, he supposed that it was useless to play '_if only'_s. Dumbledore had decreed that since the Head Girl had saved his life, thus putting him under The Wizard's Debt, and since the both of them shared common quarters, it was only natural that Draco Malfoy took care of Hermione Granger until her temporary blindness was cured.

But all the same, it was bloody inconvenient!

For Draco Malfoy, in all his pampered, selfish, seventeen years, he had never had an occasion to personally take care of another being – human or otherwise. And if it wasn't for that Life Debt, he would never need to look after the Head Girl.

It wasn't as if the seventh year Potions class was even _trying_ to create the poison! Chalk it up to fool's luck—or in this case, Longbottom's erstwhile inability to create a simple earwax remover potion! With Longbottom's ill-timed stirring, he created what was one of the hardest timed-stirring poisons in Moste Potente Potions, only to overturn it when Draco was on his way to the ingredient cabinet at the back of the class. In pushing Draco away from the overturned potion, Hermione was unfortunate enough to have inhaled enough of the fumes to cause blindness, but was fortunate enough to have avoided contact with the poison, which would have attacked her nervous system with fatal results.

Still, Draco's sense of honour—yes, contrary to popular beliefs, Slytherins do abide by a strict code of honour, albeit little understood by non-Slytherins—dictated that he was obliged to make sure that the Head Girl was well taken care of, and this required the Head Girl to partake of the evening meal.

Draco broke the silence with an exasperated sigh. "Granger," he lightened his tone, conceding to the stubborn witch, "I know that this is not easy for you at all. But neither is this easy for me."

The witch turned her face away.

Draco ran a hand through his blond hair and tried again. "You might prefer to eat in the Great Hall, but until we've figured out the logistics of that, we'll have to have our meals here first."

"I don't need you to cut my food for me," Hermione reiterated. "I'm not stupid."

"No you are not," Draco rolled his eyes. "You are blind, and you can't see to cut your food. It is not a mark of stupidity that you can't see. And look—"

Hermione flinched, and Draco nearly groaned at his insensitive turn of phrase. He had never needed to _be_ sensitive, but he wasn't about to lose this battle of wills yet. Plunging on, he continued, as if he wasn't aware of his gaffe, "—I'm _not_ going to feed you; the chicken's only cut up – you're still feeding yourself."

Another bout of silence followed.

Hermione could hear her Slytherin counterpart seating himself on her left, instead of at the opposite end of the table. Why was he doing this? He needn't pretend to take care of her – both of them knew that there was no love lost between the two of them. Besides, Dumbledore wouldn't know, would he? Malfoy could have just left her to her own devices, couldn't he?

But why was she so stupid to have inhaled the Muraro fumes? She knew the fumes were just as deadly as the poison itself. Oh, why did she have to be blinded at a time like this? NEWTs was only five months away! By the time she regained her sight, it might be too late for her to catch up in her revision! And how on earth did Malfoy get the job to 'take care' of her? What was Dumbledore thinking? Why couldn't she be given her old bed back in the Gryffindor Dormitory, and placed under the care of Harry or Ron – or even Lavender and Parvati? Still, she had to be grateful that Dumbledore did not revoke her Head Girl badge or appointed someone else to take her place. She had to be grateful for that, at least. Just as she had to be grateful that all her Professors believed that she was not only able to successfully undertake her NEWTs this year, instead of having to forfeit the entire year to take her NEWTs with Ginny's peers, but was also strong enough to continue her studies despite her blindness. Lesser wizards and witches would have confined themselves to the sickbed with their blindness until the Beltane Moonflowers could be harvested. But not her. Not Hermione Jane Granger. In fact, she had requested that her parents not be notified, just like her accident with the Polyjuice Potion in her second year, where she was confined to the Infirmary for weeks. Her Professors' faith in her academic ability and strength as a person meant a lot to her, even though she suspected that Snape's endorsement was not so much his belief in her ability as much as he not wanting to spend an extra year teaching the Gryffindor Know-It-All.

But it was so hard! So hard and humbling to rely on her school nemesis for something so simple and mundane as to cut her meat. Why did it have to be Malfoy? Why him?

If only Neville had pushed Malfoy away! But Neville – _that oaf!_ – he just stood there in shock, when what should have been a bright yellow earwax remover potion turned that unique iridescent purplish-black – the mark of the deadly Mauraro Poison. She had known instinctively what Neville had created, having read about the Poison in her second year, and had pushed Malfoy out of the potion's path in the nick of time; only to have stupidly breathed in the poison's noxious fumes!

Now Neville's apologetic, but it wasn't really his fault, was it? And Malfoy's stuck with babysitting her… and her frustration at her inability to see was eating her alive.

But for once, Malfoy was right. She couldn't eat in the Great Hall until certain logistics were worked out. It was not only that eating at the Gryffindor table might be a messy affair; the presence of hot beverages and soups might potentially scald her if she were not careful.

Also, someone would need to cut her food for her until she got used to eating blind.

And it wasn't as if she didn't recognise that Malfoy had been more than accommodating to her anger and frustrations since he'd escorted her from the Infirmary to dine in their common room. He could have hexed her – and frankly, she would have _'silencio'_ him if their situation were reversed.

Hermione lifted her left hand to the table and patted for her fork. She transferred the fork to her right hand and felt for the plate. Mentally gauging the position of the cut chicken, it took her two tries before spearing the meat and getting it into the mouth. She was aware of the silent Slytherin on her left as she masticated the tasteless meat. When she'd swallowed that first bite, she turned Malfoy's direction, saying, "Well, are you just going to watch me eat? Aren't you going to have your dinner as well?"

As far as Draco was concerned, Granger had just announced a truce to their battle of wills.

TBC.

**A/N:** sighs I told myself that I do not have time for this, but my muse refuses to listen. I was supposed to continue 'Dream', but the characters there don't want to cooperate with me! grrrr Never fear – I will corral them into where I want them to be soon enough! grins

'Blind' is partially inspired by Wendy's story idea (dracohermionecommunity/message/5850) and a take on the entire 'one character turns blind' genre. A word of warning though, the story _will_ get depressing for a time; Hermione's blindness is a fearful thing. As usual, there is research for this story, and part of it included walking around blindfolded to get a feel of relying on other senses. winks

Also, this is a work-in-progress, and I may not update as often as I like. There is something of a plot in this story, but like 'Dream', I anticipate that this story will be a looooong one in telling.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Blind 2 

Nearing the end of the uncomfortably silent dinner, there was a resounding urgent knock on the Head Pupils' door.

"Hermione? Open up! It's us!"

Ron and Harry. Hermione got up immediately, but suddenly realised that she might have difficulty moving towards the door.

"Sit down. I'll get it," Malfoy expelled an irritated sigh, as he waited for the confused looking girl to revert to her seat.

"No," Hermione hesitated. "Could you… could you help me get to the door please?"

Rolling his eyes, knowing that the girl could not see the gesture, Malfoy then grabbed Hermione's arm and navigated her around the sofa and writing tables towards the door. He reached for the doorknob and swung the door open to reveal two worried and angry Gryffindors who rushed in, alternatively hugging Hermione and glaring at him.

"What has he done to you, 'Mione?" Ron asked the blind girl, intentionally not keeping his voice down. "I'll hex him if he—"

"He's done nothing so far, Ron," Hermione interrupted her friend. Harry was torn between threatening the Slytherin who was now closing the door and comforting the obviously overwhelmed girl in his midst.

Malfoy merely smirked at the newcomers, and having only recently made truce with Hermione, decided that allowing her time with her friends might in fact be a wise move in alleviating her frustrations, so he took his book bag and left for his chambers. Before he left, however, he addressed Potter, who seemed to be the less antagonistic of the two, and civilly requested that Potter alert him before the two boys left that evening.

Harry led his best friends towards the sofa in front of the fireplace. Settling down between the two boys, Hermione listened to Ron and Harry's version of what happened the past three days.

"You fainted and Snape threw a bubble shield around the split potion before he banished it. He then portkeyed you, Neville and Malfoy to the Infirmary, and left Pansy Parkinson and me to lead the class to Madam Pomfrey for a thorough check up. By the time we go to the Infirmary, Neville and Malfoy were discharged with not a single scratch, but you were still unconscious," Ron related, looking earnestly into Hermione's blank gaze.

Harry picked up the tale, "Pomfrey had to get a specialist from St. Mungo's over to examine you. We were visiting you with the cloak when we heard the specialist's diagnosis. The potion fumes entered your nasal cavity and numbed the surrounding area, which affected your retina. Oh Hermione!"

"You should _not_ have push Malfoy out of the way!" Ron added, heatedly.

"What was I suppose to do then? Let him die?" Hermione raised her voice to match Ron's.

Ron bit his inner cheeks to prevent answering Hermione's question, but it did little to convince the other two of his sentiments.

"Why didn't you tell us you were discharged?" Harry asked, hoping to change the subject in order to diffuse the situation.

Hermione sighed, shook her head and this time, she allowed her frustrations to manifest in her tears, which she did her best to wipe away. "I was conscious yesterday – at least I thought it was yesterday," she said haltingly, trying to make sense of her personal timeline. "Madam Pomfrey explained the situation to me and I think I took the news rather badly; she gave me Dreamless Sleep. After I got up this morning, after I promised her that I was well enough, she got Professor Dumbledore to talk to me."

Both Harry and Ron huddled the sobbing girl between them, offering their comfort. For once, both boys kept silent to listen to the painful fears of the girl who had kept the two of them rooted in her strength, despite their sometimes very harrowing adventures in school.

"Dumbledore… he told me that my blindness was only temporary."

Together, the boys sighed in relief, only to clench their jaws at Hermione's next words.

"But until the antidote can be made from freshly harvested Beltane Moonflowers, Malfoy has to _'take care'_ of me," she mocked, angry at the words the Headmaster had used when he told her of what was done to help Hermione in her blindness.

"What?" Ron exploded, stood up and began pacing before the sofa. "I wouldn't trust that no good ferret with a ten-foot pole! What was Dumbledore thinking?!"

"Are you sure that's right, Hermione?" Harry frowned, his arm tightened around the sobbing girl. "It doesn't make sense for Dumbledore to entrust you to that git."

"Oh Harry," Hermione sniffed and wiped her tears with the edge of her robe sleeves, calming down somewhat with the warm support of her friends, "when I directly saved Malfoy's life, he… he became indebted to me by natural magical laws. He's under the… the Life Debt. And… and Professor Dumbledore felt that since he shared all my classes, and that since we shared Head quarters, and with the Life Debt in place, Malfoy would be the best person to help me until Beltane."

"That's rubbish!" Ron kicked a winged chair beside the sofa. "It's more than likely that… that… _flobberworm_ would hex you or leave you in the Forbidden Forest than ensure your safety!"

At that, Hermione's face paled at the dire possibilities of having Malfoy watch over her. Her fears trebled and Harry knew that Ron was not helping Hermione in her situation with his outbursts.

"I'm sure Dumbledore has his reasons," Harry tried to pacify the trembling girl whose nose was red with crying, rubbing her back whilst giving Ron a telling frown, which immediately deflated the angry boy's high emotions and made him realise his blunder. "He has not failed us yet," Harry lowered his voice to a whisper, "look at Snape; Dumbledore knows what he's doing."

"But it's _Malfoy_," Hermione tilted her face up to Harry in a piteous voice. "Ron's right – he could very well hurt me."

"We'll not let that happen, Hermione," Harry assured her. "Besides, you yourself said that Malfoy's under Life Debt, isn't he? I know that I don't pay as close attention to Binns as I should, but Life Debt means that the ferret's bound by magic to protect you, doesn't it? So he can't possibly do you any harm, can he? Be logical, Hermione – you're usually the logical one."

"Yeah 'Mione," Ron agreed quietly, sitting down beside Hermione and holding her cold hands, "besides, you still have your magic and your brains – Malfoy's sure to think twice if he ever decides to cross wands with you."

The trio sat in comforting silence as Harry and Ron's reassuring words sunk in. As Hermione's tears dried up, her clear-headedness, which had saved her friends and her countless times, returned. Yes, she was blind – but like she'd told Malfoy, she wasn't stupid. Yes, she was blind, but she still had her magic. Perhaps she ought to be most grateful that her magic was unaffected by the potion; being blind was one thing, but unlike muggles, Hermione was a powerful witch, and her magical abilities would help her to cope with some aspects of her blindness. She could rely on _'Accio'_ to get the things she needed; she could use a Dicto-quill to aid her in her writing. And surely there must be a spell or charm to enable her books to be read aloud – she would have to speak to Professor Flitwick about that.

Suddenly, a spark of optimism rekindled Hermione's Gryffindor nature. The usual enthusiasm Hermione took in planning her study schedule or running Dumbledore's Army was now channelled into the challenge of overcoming the odds against her in her blindness. As Hermione's mind began to sift through what charms and spells would help her in her darkness, Hermione was also grateful for one more thing: unlike most muggles who would be permanently blinded for life, Hermione's blindness was temporary. The next four months would fly by and she would soon be able to see again.

True, the major downside to her blindness was Malfoy being her eyes, but now that she thought about it rationally, it really couldn't be helped – not if she wanted to graduate with Ron and Harry. There was no available teacher who could take care of her– not when Voldemort was still at large. None of the other seventh years besides Malfoy took the same NEWTs subject combination as her. And even if there was another person in Hogwarts with the same subject combination, Malfoy's academic level would best them, which made him a better choice to help her in her studies. The other option of placing her under the care of her friends would not work either – complications would surely arise if she had too many people to take responsibility for her and if she had to shuttle between different caretakers – not only would it be very inconvenient, it would cause a great deal of stress for her friends to adjust to taking care of her.

No. It would be a simple thing for Professor McGonagall to rearrange both Malfoy's and her timetable so that they could attend the same classes together; she was almost sure that McGonagall would allow the both of them to attend classes with the Gryffindors, as well as with the Slytherins.

As for her Head Girl duties, those were much easier to carry out – the Head Pupils need not do patrol duties; instead, their duties focussed more on counselling students, planning school events such as Quidditch matches and managing Prefectorial duties. This, Hermione was able to handle, even with her handicap.

With the return of her rational thinking, Hermione's determination and Gryffindor courage rose to the forefront. She would be able to do this. Besides, she could always rely on her boys to come visit her here. Yes, if Malfoy dared to try any nonsense, Harry and Ron would make sure that Malfoy would suffer. And Malfoy knew it. Besides, like Ron said, she was a smart witch, and she was more than able to handle that albino ferret – blind or otherwise.

-OO-

After Potter and Weasley left Granger, Draco approached the silent girl, still seated on the sofa before the fire.

"Granger," he said, making his presence known in the room. Draco took a seat in an adjacent winged chair and looked thoughtfully at the blind girl.

Granger appeared calmer about the situation, and for that he was thankful. He really did not appreciate having to fight with hysteria or tears or stubbornness at every step of their exchange.

Whilst the Gryffindors were in the living room, Draco was not idle in his room. After he had completed his homework and the readings for the next day, he had systematically listed everything he could think of that the witch would need help in her blindness. Some of the things on his list were easy enough to deal with, while other items listed made him blush. Fortunately the blind witch would not be able to see his discomfort; nonetheless, those matters need to be addressed as well.

When Dumbledore entrusted the Head Girl's welfare to him, Draco was shocked at the level of trust the Headmaster had in him. Oh he knew that Dumbledore trusted him, even if the Golden Gryffindors thought otherwise, for the position of Head Boy was not a position bestowed lightly. Even if no one understood the implications, Draco was immensely aware of how much trust Dumbledore had in him to put him in charge of his precious children at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Frankly, he was surprised to receive the Head Boy badge in the owl from Hogwarts before the beginning of the term. He knew that he was a contender for the position, although he did not believe that that interview he had to undergo at the end of his sixth year carried much weight. At the time, he had thought that it was a token interview; done so that the faculty can say, "Yes, we've interviewed all the Houses, but the best candidate for Head Boy is still a Gryffindor/Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff." Being in Slytherin, Draco had learnt early from his first year how much the faculty and students were prejudiced against the Snake House; a bitter lesson he'd learnt when the House Trophy was wrongfully surrendered to Gryffindor after the Headmaster had unfairly awarded house points to Potter _after_ the coveted trophy was already given to Slytherin. The hard work both he and his House had put into that year to garnering House points, only to lose it to Perfect Potter's rule-breaking, made a strong impression in the heart of the young Slytherin. That episode from his first year still stung him, and reminded his House constantly of the battles they had to undertake to rise above the hate and suspicions the other three Houses had regarding the Slytherins.

It did not help matters when, in Draco's fifth year, Professor Umbridge succeeded Professor Dumbledore as Headmaster, and she had recruited the ambitious Slytherins to form the Inquisitorial Squad. The Slytherins had by then been so sick of the other Houses' holier-than-thou snubbing, that they seized the opportunity for leadership, thinking that finally, they were able to put the other Houses in their place. Unfortunately, on hindsight, Draco now understood that Umbridge had the Squad behave little more than pathetic lackeys and snitches – a position of leadership he had never aspired to be.

But if asked what kind of leadership he aspired to, Draco would be hard-pressed to answer.

Nonetheless, the fact of the matter was that Dumbledore had taken a very high risk in appointing the son of a convicted Death Eater as this year's Hogwarts Head Boy. That the Death Eater in question was still in Azkaban was immaterial – Voldemort was still at large, and Draco's position as Head Boy could very well compromise Hogwarts' security if Draco proved untrustworthy.

Trust. How very difficult a concept for Slytherins to grasp, thought Draco wryly. Oh he knew very well what others thought of Slytherins, even if what they thought were utter rubbish! The same-old, same-old nonsense about how Slytherins were notorious for not trusting people, and not keeping people's trust; that Slytherins trusted no one – not even themselves. Really, if Slytherins were such untrustworthy people, then why bother teaching Slytherins in the first place? Why not just let the Sorting Hat sort them out and imprison the lot of them at Azkaban?

Yet, somehow, the Headmaster did the unthinkable by entrusting him with the Head Boy position – this, despite his association with the Inquisitorial Squad; despite the trouble he had caused to Hagrid in his third year.

And yet again, Dumbledore had increased his measure of trust in Draco by putting Granger's welfare directly in his hand.

Dumbledore was either an eternal optimist, or insane, Draco shook his head.

Still, Draco remembered how at his interview for the Head Boy position, the Headmaster had taken a long hard look at him, as if staring into the depths of Draco's soul, and how Dumbledore had then looked at him with a solemn satisfaction – as if he had plumbed the depths of all his unfathomable questions and longings and insecurities, and found a measure of something worthy in him. For that look alone, for that moment of something akin to pride in the eyes of a man in authority over him – a look he had never had turned onto him by his father or the Headmaster – the oft looked-over Slytherin would not let the Headmaster down.

Draco was honest enough to admit to himself, even if he would never admit to others, that part of the reason for his current position was due to Professor Snape. The Potions Professor had begun counselling him in his sixth year, when Draco showed signs of depression after his father's imprisonment at the end of Draco's fifth year. Draco's depression was part due to the events of fifth year – an unexpected inheritance of the Black estates, the backlash from his peers for his involvement in the Inquisitorial Squad, but mostly his depression stem from what he believed was his inevitable destiny of servitude to the Dark Lord. Experience in the Inquisitorial Squad had taught him that he did not want to be a lackey all his life; and frankly, after talking to Phineas Nigellus at Grimmauld Place, he found himself questioning the pureblood rhetoric spouted by his father.

Somehow, Professor Snape had stepped in just in time to help make sense of what Snape called 'The Slytherin's Destiny'.

According to the Professor, the fate of the Slytherin is not servitude to the Dark Lord. Not at all.

The Slytherin, explained its Head of House, is an ambitious creature, and was, metaphorically speaking, always on the lookout to scale every mountain. Slytherins saw challenges as exciting possibilities, as tests of their cunning and perseverance. A Slytherin's ambition was never about taking over the world; the concept of power struggle and gaining the right to rule was never a uniquely Slytherin trait. As long as there were selfish, self-seeking people, they would seek to rule – be they Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaw or even Gryffindors.

And there was nothing in the Slytherin's make-up that made it easier for them to choose Dark over Light. Choice was still a matter of a person's will.

Then, the professor had looked into Draco's eyes, and solemnly entrusted Draco with a secret so profound that Draco felt awed by it. The professor had shown him his Dark Mark, and told him the regrets of his joining the Death Eaters, and how now, after all these years, he was trapped to obey the whims of a madman, and adhere to a vision he did not believe in, in order to stay alive. Snape had charged Draco then, not to follow in his footsteps, but to be the kind of Slytherin that would epitomise what it meant to be Slytherin.

That session with Snape came on the heel of his discovery about the truth behind the Black family motto. He had spent Christmas at Grimmauld Place, and one of his ancestors, a Slytherin and a Hogwarts Headmaster, had revealed to him that 'Toujour Pur' – Always Pure, was not about blood purity as most of the post-Grindelward magical community thought. The motto referred instead to purity of heart – for it was for Sir Reginald Blackhart's embodiment of the true Slytherin in keeping his heart pure, using his cunning and determination in saving his King, that he was knighted by Arthur Pendragon. The irony, the best-kept secret of the Black clan, was that pure-hearted Reginald, the first of his line, was one of the rare Slytherins of muggle birth.

Buffeted on all sides with new perspectives, and eyes opened to new possibilities, Draco had spent the rest of that year thinking hard about what he wanted to do in life. He knew what he didn't want – he didn't want to be trapped like Snape was. He didn't want people to look at him with disdain and disgust. He didn't want looks of hatred and betrayal.

Apart from that, he only knew that he wanted a chance to prove himself worthy of the trust of two men who took a chance on him.

The silence stretched between the Head Pupils.

Draco decided that he would break this stalemate once more. "Granger," he repeated exasperatedly, "we need to discuss about how we're going to go about this."

The girl closed her unseeing eyes and leaned her head back against the sofa, silently waiting for Draco to begin the discussion.

"I've listed down some daily situations which might get awkward with your… um… _situation_." Clearly, Draco was not quite sure how to proceed, especially with Granger being so uncooperative.

"Naturally, I'll need to escort you to class – Professor McGonagall will be giving us the new timetable tomorrow, so we'll…" he shrugged, trailing off. Draco took a look at his list and began again, "There's the matter of writing, but I think we could—"

"Dicto-quill."

"Pardon?" Draco looked up at the interruption. Hermione had not moved an inch.

"I said, 'Dicto-quill'."

When it was clear that the Head Boy did not understand her, Hermione sat up and said, "Dicto-quill. For writing."

Draco nodded, then felt foolish. She couldn't see him. He grimaced and then affirmed her idea. "Right. Using a Dicto-quill would be a better choice than getting a House Elf to act as scribe." Draco ignored the look that passed over Granger's face at the mention of House Elves.

With a longsuffering sigh, Draco continued, "There is the problem of reading books—"

Again, he was interrupted by the Gryffindor. "I was wondering if there was a charm or spell that could read the books aloud. Could we check with Professor Flitwick tomorrow?"

That was a possibility, Draco thought, but unlikely. If there were such a spell, literacy would be moot – and surely Crabbe or Goyle would have taken advantage of such a spell already. Nonetheless, Draco decided against bursting Granger's bubble, and simply said, "We'll see him during our Charms class."

The next item on his list was a bit more personal, and Draco found that he was suddenly discomfited. "Erm… finally… that is, we… er…need to discuss about… your… er… personal hygiene."

Granger looked stunned for a moment, and then she looked as if she was trying not to laugh at him. Granger's reaction irked him and immediately, that dispelled any uneasiness on his part.

"Per…personal hygiene?" Granger queried, the corners of her mouth inching upwards.

Falling back to the cool cool drawl that Draco had perfected in his second year, he leaned back and said, "Well, I'm not going to bathe or change you. It might very well blind _me_ for life."

Granger's laughter was doused instantly. Giving Draco's general direction a glare, she retorted, "Like I would allow you to even step into my bathroom with me!"

"You'll need someone to help you around," he reminded Granger.

"You could just lead me to the bathroom door. The bathroom's not that big, and I can easily _'Accio'_ whatever I need. And once I get used to walking about in my room, I might not even need you to lead me to the bath," countered Granger quickly.

"Fine."

"Fine!"

"So, would you like to get cleaned up now?"

Granger looked confused, so Draco enlightened her with a sneer. "Your little _chat_ with your friends lasted three hours. Frankly, I'm tired – it'll be midnight in half an hour and we've got classes to attend in the morning. I'll need to lead you to your bathroom and then _tuck you in_," he mocked, "before I can even attend to my own needs."

Looking furious, Granger got up from her chair without a word and tried walking in the direction of her bedroom, but she didn't get too far – her path was obstructed by a side table, and if it were not for Draco's lightning quick reflexes, she would have fallen to the ground.

Draco shook his head, amused by the Gryffindor's obstinacy. Feeling exhausted by the day's chain of events, he decided not to provoke Granger anymore, but to lead her to her bathroom, and thereafter, to her bed.

TBC.

**A/N:** Yes, Draco's thoughts rambled on. grins Still, life-changing moments do not often happen in a linear fashion. We might be hearing more from his quarters in future chapters. Just to clarify, Snape did not tell Draco that he was in the Order – only that he had regret joining the Death Eaters and now had to remain under Voldemort's control. How does Draco feel about that? We'll explore that in future chapters, my friends.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Blind 3 

_Accio_, Hermione decided that morning, was the most wonderful spell in the world.

Last night, after that git Malfoy had led her to the bathroom and she had locked the door with an extremely powerful warding charm, she had allowed herself a good cry for the humiliation of relying on her nemesis to 'take care' of her. Then she had spend a good ten minutes literally in the dark of her bathroom, figuring out the layout and struggling with the taken-for-granted event known as bathing.

She got going though, when she remembered that she could _Accio_ almost anything – from soap, to shampoo, to towel, to toothbrush and toothpaste, to her hairbrush and sleepwear. Once cleaned up and feeling refreshed, she felt slightly guilty for leaving the House Elves to clean up after her; but it was a short lived feeling, quickly replaced with a feeling of gratefulness that this was yet another instance where being a blind magical witch was an advantage over being a blind muggle. Certainly, a House Elf would be able to put her bathroom to rights much quicker and with less effort using magic than a muggle housemaid, she reasoned, in an attempt to alleviate her feelings of guilt.

When she'd step out of the bathroom, Malfoy was waiting for her to lead her to her four-poster bed. Hermione had drawn the line at Malfoy literally tucking her in. She had dismissed him when she felt her leg bump the bed, and he had then left her without even a goodnight – not that Hermione cared about his lack of civility in the least.

This morning, she had woken up to the loud rapping on her bedroom door – Malfoy's version of a charming wake-up call. A spell to open the warded door later, Malfoy had escorted her once more to the bathroom. With the ferret holding her by her elbow, Hermione knew from the fresh scent of his cedar-scented shampoo that he had already readied himself to face the new day. After visiting the loo, brushing her teeth, changing into her uniform and attempting to do something to manage her hair, Hermione left the bathroom, and once more was escorted by her guide to the dining table in the common room. They would breakfast together before going for their first class since the accident: Double Transfiguration.

With little conversation, Malfoy had taken her elbow and her bookbag – despite her protests that she was _blind_, not _invalid_ – and had led Hermione through the treacherous corridors and shifting staircases in the bewildering maze otherwise known as Hogwarts. Secretly, Hermione was glad that Malfoy helped her with the shifting staircases to get to the Transfiguration classroom. In her opinion, the moving staircases were the most worrying obstacle in navigating her way around the school.

Transfiguration was confusing for the blind girl. Hermione did not know what to expect. She was the only Gryffindor in a Slytherin-Ravenclaw class, and the dynamics of the lesson felt very different from her Gryffindor-Hufflepuff class. She had expected the usual camaraderie and happy distracting noises in Transfiguration class because the good-natured Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors got along very well, and mistakes in transfiguration were usually met with loud whoops of laughter and Professor McGonagall's eye rolls and tsk-tsk-ings of displeasure.

Not so for a Slytherin-Ravenclaw class.

One clear difference was that the Ravenclaws took the lesson entirely too seriously – they were more interested in the theoretical aspects of transfiguration and asked so many questions that the time for the practical was reduced to a mere forty minutes, whereas the practical portion in her Gryffindor-Hufflepuff class was usually more than an hour. Surprisingly, the Slytherins Hermione sat with were not only able to contribute to the discussions, they were working alongside the Ravenclaws relatively well – relative being the operative word – since the Slytherins were not exactly liked even amongst the studious Ravenclaws. Still, instead of happy classroom noises, Hermione could only hear a quiet hum of voices practising transfiguring the fresh flowers into glass.

After easily turning her own specimen into glass, Hermione sat down morosely. It was usually then in her own class that Ron or Neville or Susan or Ernie would ask her over to help them out with their assignments. Instinctively, Hermione knew that for the rest of the time until she regained her sight, no one would be asking her for help in Transfiguration. The Ravenclaws would never ask academic help from Hermione; House pride, after all, dictated that the Ravenclaws would strive to reclaim Hogwarts' academic accolades, which rightfully belonged to them from that usurper Gryffindor.

And the Slytherins would rather be hexed with the Cruciatus than ask a Gryffindor for help.

Thus, Hermione, for the first time in her life, felt utterly useless and bored in her class.

Thankfully, Professor McGonagall, after she had had mini-conferences with each student regarding their transfiguration during the practical, finally turned her attention to the Head Girl. Leading Hermione to the teacher's desk in order to speak to her privately, the older lady asked, "And how are you really, Hermione?"

Hermione bit her lips. She wasn't sure what to say. She was doing the best she could under the circumstance, and only time will tell if she was able to cope with her blindness. At the moment though, "Things are… fine, so far."

"Were you able to follow the lesson?"

Hermione nodded immediately in McGonagall's direction, and added, "Yes, but I've already read up to chapter 12 of the text, and we're only doing chapter 9 now... and I was able to take some notes using the dicto-quill – which reminds me, Professor, is there a spell which can enable written words to be read aloud?"

Professor McGonagall was silent for a while, and Hermione began to feel uneasy.

"Hmm… I will have to ask around and check with Professor Flitwick and the Headmaster. There isn't such a spell to my knowledge," the Professor finally replied, albeit apologetically.

Hermione sagged a little. If Professor McGonagall didn't know of such a spell, it seemed unlikely that such a spell existed. She'll just have to think of another way to get around this problem. Giving her professor an assuring smile, Hermione said cheerfully, "I'm sure I'll find another way to deal with this."

-OO-

Transfiguration was over, and Draco heaved a sigh of relief.

He didn't know what McGonagall wanted with Granger, but he noticed that after their conference, Granger seemed to droop a little. As if she hadn't been wilting all through class, he sneered.

Draco was surprised though, when Granger was able to transfigure that flower perfectly on the first try. Even he had to attempt the spell twice before ensuring that the flower's inner petals were transfigured into glass, and he was one of the better students in the highly competitive class. It was just as well, he figured, that Granger was blind; the looks the Ravenclaws threw her way would make _Avada Kedavara_ seem mild in comparison when they saw how easily she changed the molecular structure of the flower.

Thereafter though, Granger seemed lost. What did Granger do in class when magic came so easily to her? Draco frowned. After attempting the transfiguration a few more times to perfect the technique, Draco turned to his Housemates to see if they needed help. He had to correct Vincent on his pronunciation, and he felt that Vincent was doing rather well by the time class was over.

The next lesson was Charms, and once more, Draco had to escort the Head Girl to class.

"Ready, Granger?" he drawled, "Flitwick awaits."

Granger had _Accio-ed_ her precious bookbag to her, in order to prevent Draco from carrying it for her. Draco shrugged. So she wanted to carry her own things – Draco was not going to fight with her for her additional burdens.

They entered the Charms classroom early, and thankfully, Professor Flitwick was free. After leading Granger to their seats to deposit their bags, Draco led her to the teacher's desk to speak with the diminutive professor.

"Ah, my dear Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy, how may I help you?" the tiny professor squeaked.

Granger explained her need for a spell that could read texts aloud and Professor Flitwick was silent for a long while.

"Miss Granger, I'm sorry to say that to my knowledge, such a spell does not exist," he began, crushing hopes in Hermione's heart, "nor is it likely to exist. You must have studied magical theory, and I'm sure you must know that the spoken word is just as much part of magic as the conduit of your wand to yourself. As such, we cannot charm words to read itself – the nuances, the tones, the accents, the very essence of the semantics would be lost."

Granger's face fell, and Draco, not for the first time, felt a twinge of pity for the blind girl. "What about recording words and sounds?"

"Ah," the Professor brightened, "That we can do! Pensives, Rememberalls, Memory balls – even magical paintings! Why, there's a musical picture of a ballet somewhere on the seventh floor, if memory serves… we can certainly capture sounds onto inanimate objects, and we can certainly allow what was inanimate to be audible and given a semblance of life, but the magical basis requires us to create it… to… to put it there in the first place." The professor ended his lecture with a firm nod of his white head.

Draco saw the grim look on Granger's face, and he knew that she had accepted that there were no spells that can enable texts to be read aloud. Her next question surprised him.

"Professor, are there any books in the library charmed to read itself?" Granger's vacant eyes widened in anticipation; Draco was impressed by her quick leap of logic.

"Books charmed to read itself? Hmm… I'm sure there are a few, I'm sure. The printer and authors might have done so to entice readers to read. Certainly the children's primer readers would have charmed texts… yes, yes. Hmm… yes, yes. I think Irma Pince could help you out there, yes."

Granger's face lit up in a glow, and unbeknownst to Draco, his own lips were slightly curled up at the good fortune as well.

"But I must warn you, Ms Granger," the Professor continued, "that such books are juvenile at best, not the type of books you favour, I'm afraid. These books are usually for the very young to learn to read, although there might be a few such books for more mature readers."

Draco knew intuitively that they were headed for the library after Charms was over.

-OO-

Charms lesson came and went much like Transfiguration; only this time, it was with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Being the only Slytherin and Gryffindor in the class because of timetabling difficulty, the other students viewed Hermione and Malfoy with some misgivings.

Hermione had never experienced the hostility between the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws until that particular lesson. If the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was bad, the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw rivalry was worse. The tension in the class was thick, and it was very obvious to even Hermione that the subtle snipes the Ravenclaws shot the Badgers were rude and demeaning, whilst the equally bristling remarks returned by the usually laid-back Hufflepuffs were just as offensive.

Caught in the crossfire, both Hermione and Malfoy remained quietly in the sidelines, making sure that they did not draw attention to themselves. Unfortunately, it was very difficult – the Hufflepuffs loathed the lone Slytherin for all his years bullying them, as much as the Ravenclaw hated the lone Gryffindor for her academic prowess. Still, the odd pair tried their best to ignore the whispered snarks, focussing on casting the complex Kitrarina charm instead.

Hermione couldn't wait until class was over before heading to the library.

-OO-

The soft murmuring calm of the library invaded Hermione's mind; the musty scent of the ancient books, the cool atmosphere surrounding her, all contributed to an aura of peace invading her senses. This was her home at Hogwarts; this was the comfort-blanket that warmed her even in her lonely first year, during the time before she cemented her friendship Harry and Ron after the Troll Incident. This was the room that gave her a buffer when her peers failed to understand her motivations, choosing to call her "Know-It-All" in snide tones. This was the place where Viktor Krum, that sweet Bulgarian Seeker, had asked her out to the Yule Ball in her fourth year, her first date. This was the place she spent her fifth year swotting for her OWLs, apart from her training in Dumbledore's Army.

The Hogwarts Library was Hermione's Sanctuary, and the library's environs were akin to a religious place of worship for the witch, who cherished wizarding knowledge like a supplicant.

Hermione's followed Malfoy's lead to where she supposed Madam Pince was.

"Madam Pince, we were wondering if you could help us," Draco spoke softly and politely into the silence.

"Mr Malfoy… Miss Granger," Madam Pince responded, looking up from some paperwork at the counter. "Miss Granger!"

Apparently, Madam Pince had not expected a visit from her most avid reader since the Potion accident.

Madam Pince moved out from her counter and fussed over the pair, making sure that the Head Girl was comfortably seated at a table before turning her eyes to the Head Boy to ask, "Now, how may I help you?"

Granger explained her need for books charmed to read themselves, but all Madam Pince could do was to shake her head with furrowed brows.

"Oh dear. Oh my. Tsk! I'm afraid… well, that is to say," Madam Pince turned to look at the mirroring frown on the Head Boy's face, "Um, I think I'll bring all those books here, and you can see for yourselves… er—" she blushed at her gaff, "—um, you know what I mean; that is, um… well, yes."

Madam Pince left the couple at the table and hurried to retrieve the books Granger requested, Malfoy staring after the uncomfortable witch. He knew that the staff at Hogwarts have been informed about Hermione's blindness, but the two of them have yet to meet with all the staff. Madam Pince's discomfort with Granger's presence left him feeling awkward, and he could sense that Granger was not only feeling confused, but disturbed by their encounter with Madam Pince. Thinking that it was wiser to leave things be for the time being, Draco rummaged through his bookbag for his Transfiguration and Charms notes to review whilst waiting for the librarian to return with the books they needed.

"What are you doing?" Granger asked quietly.

"Just going through my morning's notes," Draco replied absently.

Hermione bit her lips on Malfoy's reply.

She would have done likewise if she were in his place. Nonetheless, she was a tad angry at Malfoy's disregard of her…_ of my what, Hermione? My blindness?_

He had no need to spare her sensibilities after all. Not that he was likely to – the git was probably upset that the potion didn't send her into a coma or something similar, which would make it so much easier for him in 'taking care' of her.

Hermione huffed and stared quietly out into space.

"Will you stop that drumming?"

Turning towards the boy's irritated voice, she just rolled her eyes and continued drumming her fingers on the table – this time taking pleasure in consciously doing it.

After what seemed to Hermione like hours, Madam Pince returned.

"Miss Granger, these are the few audible books I found in our library. They're not much, but I hope they will be useful to you." Not even waiting for Hermione's response, the librarian practically fled from the pupils' table, to Malfoy's wry observation.

"I suppose I should be thankful that there _are_ audible books in the first place," Hermione sighed. "Well, Malfoy, what kind of books are these?"

Draco flipped through the very thin pile of readers. _'This is all they've got?'_ he thought, as he shook his head, frowning.

"_The Tale of Two Wizards_ by K. Jolling. _A Collection of Morality Tales_ by R. J. Ekhart. _Seven Simple Charms for Beginning Charmers_ by Q. A. Lisbon." A sigh, and Draco added, "Shall I continue? There are about six of these books in all, and they are like what Flitwick says – simple readers and primers."

"There… there aren't…" Hermione hesitated, "There aren't any textbooks in there, are there?"

Looking down into Hermione's closed, defeated posture, Draco sighed quietly. "No, Granger," he said softly.

It was too much for Hermione. It was one thing for her hope in finding a means of reading to be dashed, but to find herself the object of pity from her enemy? It was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

"I'd like to return to my room now," she whispered.

Without a word, Draco packed his belongings and hefted both his and Hermione's bag onto his shoulders. This time, the Gryffindor made no protest, not even when the Slytherin placed his hand on her elbow to lead her out of the library.

TBC.

**A/N:**

A few comments I received regarding the story so far, pointed out that this story isn't politically correct enough. While I understand that the topic of blindness might cause offence to readers if I had allowed certain prejudices to come to the fore, let me reiterate that I meant no offence to the blind in this story.

The terms used in this story might be harsh at places, but they are how Hermione sees her situation. Hermione has yet to come to terms with the loss of her sight, and as such, sees the loss as a handicap and something that she has to mourn and grief the loss of. It will not be a simple thing for her to overcome, not if I want to keep the story as plausible as possible. Hermione's loss of sight is devastating to her on an even larger scale, because of I believe she sees her identity as tied to her 'books and cleverness', the result of her extensive, avid reading and working hard on her school assignments. I suspect that Hermione is the sort of girl to lose herself in study to cope with difficulties, and in this obstacle she faces, the obstacle in itself is her inability to access her books.

I can promise that once Hermione learns to cope with her blindness, her strength and independence will shine through again. Do remember, at this point, her blindness is still new to her, and where she is is still a frightening place for her.


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Blind 4**

She was asleep on the sofa in front of the fireplace, dried twin tear-tracks on her face, when he got back to the Headrooms. He had left her staring into space on the sofa when he brought her back from the library. The now-cold mug of tea, which Draco had given to her an hour and a half ago, remained untouched on the coffee table.

With his Head Boy duties pressing on his time, Draco had little choice but to leave the girl to her own devices after what happened at the library. He had to meet the fifth year group he was tutoring in Charms, and he had less than five minutes to make his way all the way to the other side of the castle to do so. He would have returned to the Head room much earlier, if Sheol Blakeford hadn't sought his advice about whether he ought to just forget about his dismal attempt to better his OWL Charms grade and just concentrate on his other subjects instead. Truth be told, Draco had welcomed Sheol's counselling session – it was infinitely easier to advise the younger Slytherin, who obviously venerated his senior, than to face the stoic Gryffindor waiting for him in the Head room.

Well, fortunate for him then, that Granger appeared to have tired herself out and was in a deep sleep. Little wonder there, though – Granger hadn't fully recovered from her stay at the Infirmary, and her first day in school after the potion accident had sent her on an emotional tailspin that could have easily knocked out even the healthy. She slept in an awkward angle on the sofa and would surely suffer a sore neck if she remained in that cramped position. Running a hand through his hair, Draco decided that it would be better to put Granger to bed before settling down to do his revision and homework.

Cursing softly as he hefted the girl off the sofa, he quipped, "You're not exactly featherweight, are you?"

Hermione merely mumbled and burrowed into Draco's arms. He really ought to have _mobilicorpus_ her, he thought with regret, shifting her weight for greater comfort, but he feared that if she awoke while being transported through the air, she might panic and hurt herself further.

He manoeuvred his burden into her darkened room and with a bit of a struggle, managed to put her on her bed, remove her shoes and tuck her in. Hands on his hips, Draco surveyed his handiwork with a grimace.

He felt helpless, not knowing how to make things right. A depressed Granger was beyond the scope of his understanding. Wasn't Granger supposed to be this strong pillar of strength in Perfect Potter's Adventures? Wasn't she supposed to be this superhuman-larger-than-life sidekick whose logic faculty was on par with his Potion Master _in her first year_ at Hogwarts? He had, of course, like the rest of the Wizarding World, read all about the Gryffindors' skirmishes with Voldemort, in the 'Boy-Who-Lived' special feature spread that had appeared in the Daily Prophet last year, which chronicled how the Dark Lord was repeatedly foiled by Potter and his sidekicks, in an attempt to allay the public's fear about the extent of the Dark Lord's powers. But the Hermione Granger described in those columns was a far cry from the defeated looking girl, curled up in a foetal position underneath the quilt.

Sighing, he walked to the doorway and turned back to look at the sleeping girl. As for making things right… well, this was the best he could do for the moment.

-OO-

"Translate the following runes found on the Rauk Stone. State how its interpretation of Theodoric the Great's rule differs from Rowena Ravenclaw's _History of Ostrogothia_. In your essay, refer to how the magical political climate of its time influenced modern Götaland, and subsequently, the European Magical community," Draco read from the assignment Vector gave with a sigh. "Like it matters," he shook his head, raking a hand through his once impeccably-gelled hair.

The loud rap at the front door gave Draco a reprieve from his focused revision at his desk.

Glancing up at the mantel clock, he vaguely noted that it was just after dinner hours at the Great Hall. He stretched, removed the gunmetal reading glasses from the bridge of his nose and tossed it onto his opened textbook. Rubbing his eyes to clear his mind of runic alphabets and marked passages from Ravenclaw's _History of Ostrogothia_, he looked towards the front door at the other side of the room. The rapping resounded again.

He got up, hesitated, crossed over to the Head Girl's bedroom and peeked in. '_Good_,' he thought, '_she's still asleep_.' He left the door slightly ajar and quietly made his way over to the front door. The rapping began again, louder and more urgent. '_A total lack of patience,_' he frowned. '_Must be a Gryffindor._'

He was proved correct when Potter was revealed in the doorway.

"Granger's asleep," Draco drawled, before the other boy said a single word. "But with the racket you made at the door, it won't be long before she wakes up," he sneered.

"Hermione's sleeping?" Potter's eyes flashed suspiciously behind his glasses.

'_Oh, this is almost too easy,_' Draco thought snidely. Rolling his eyes exaggeratedly, he said, "I _did_ say 'Granger's asleep', didn't I?" He dragged his words out slow and loudly, as if talking to one hard of hearing, and then he suddenly feigned mock horror, "Wait! Don't tell me – you've gone _deaf!"_

Seeing the other wizard clenching his fist, knuckle white, Draco leaned nonchalantly against the doorpost, folded his arms and gave his school rival a lazy smile. "And if Weasel's suddenly gone mute, won't that make you three like the 'see-no-evil, hear-no-evil, speak-no-evil' monkeys?" he smirked.

That was the final insult. Harry swung his fist at the Head Boy, who, with his own Seeker reflex, easily sidestepped the blow.

"Hey," Draco pacified, as he raised his hands before his flushed-faced adversary. "You Gryffindors take things all too seriously."

"And why shouldn't I?" Potter bit out. "My best friend is blinded because a stupid Slytherin couldn't save his own arse even if it were handed to him on a platter. Tell me why I shouldn't just beat you into a pulp!"

The insult riled him, just as Potter knew it would. Draco's mouth hardened into a line, his fist clenched, as he itched to retaliate and put Perfect Potter into his place. However, just as he was prepared to engage Potter in what would be a satisfying settling of scores, he suddenly remembered the look on Dumbledore's face the first time he introduced Draco to the school as this year's Head Boy.

No, he had a lot more at stake here than to ruin it with a physical (albeit gratifying) altercation.

"H… Harry?"

A tentative, soft-spoken voice broke through the boys' verbal combat, causing the two of them to turn their head towards the Head Girl's room.

Almost at the same stride, the boys reached Hermione's room and with a quick '_lumous'_, the dark room lit up to reveal a pale-faced, bushy-haired girl, clutching the thick quilt to her chest.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Harry asked, as he grasped her hands.

"Harry? Where am I?" Hermione choked out, confusion on her face.

Harry's eyes narrowed at Draco, silently accusing him of having done something to cause the usually confident Hermione to lose her footing.

"I… I fell asleep on the sofa, but where—?"

"You're safe, 'Mione. You're in your own bed in your room." Harry gathered the disquieted witch into his arms. "I'm here," he added, hoping to transfer his moral support to his best friend with words and touch.

"Just as well you're awake, Granger," Draco drawled from the door. "I'll get the House Elves to get your dinner and your boyfriend here can keep you company for a while."

O-O

'_Stupid,'_ he scolded himself. _'Should have woken her up and __then__ brought her to her room!'_ He shook his head at the turn of events_._ He didn't like the way Granger looked when he entered her bedroom. She looked lost and alone and just plain scared. Potter's presence, however, bolstered her soon enough, and when he'd left them with her dinner, she was already reassuring Scarhead that she was merely disorientated and that everything was fine.

Still, Draco mentally made a note for the future. "Just another one of those little things to be aware of in taking care of that tedious Gryffindor," he grumbled to himself, striding through the corridors, as he navigated the myriad of turns and shifting staircases by pure instinct.

He had had a quick dinner followed by revision after he had put Granger to bed. Now that Potter was around, he was all too happy to leave his charge with the Boy-Who-Had-Too-Much-Time-And-Too-Little-To-Do.

Funny that Weasley didn't tag along.

Maybe not so funny.

He paused in his stride, a smirk suddenly forming on his lips. Perhaps the rumour that Potter and Granger were an item might just be true after all.

'_I wonder how that'll play out in the school's betting pool,'_ he mused, descending on the stairs with his usual grace.

His mind worked quickly, plotting, scheming, and planning how that little tidbit might be used to his advantage. Perhaps he could engage Potter to bear the brunt of looking after the girl.

However, even as he thought that thought, he realised how limited Potter's presence would be. Potter might be available to babysit Granger a few hours a day in the evenings, but the rest of the time – mornings, school hours, nights – he was still Granger's eyes. And hands. And feet.

Moreover, even as he thought about it, he knew the Wizard's Debt link would compel him somehow to make the first sacrifice in order to repay the debt: How else was he to explain that sense of urgency he felt in running to Granger's aid when she awoke in the middle of his little tête-à-tête with Potter? Or that sense of disappointment he shared with her in library?

It was certainly fortunate that she slept the later part of that afternoon away; otherwise, he would be kept alert to her welfare, distracting him from his tutoring session and revision.

He soon found himself standing outdoors, striding towards the Quidditch Pitch, a secure area for flying. While Potter was occupied with comforting Granger, he had better put in whatever free time he had honing his Seeker skills.

He might be tied by the Wizard's Debt to babysit Granger, but it was no excuse for not winning at Quidditch.

-OO-

Another red slash crossed the parchment, and the raven-haired professor looked up at the student who had interrupted his work this evening.

"Draco," he nodded, as he banished the graded third year paper into its pigeonhole, to join the rest of its marked counterparts.

"Professor Snape."

The professor's movement were precise as he put away his quill and inkpot into his desk drawers. Once he was satisfied that his desk was neat, the fastidious professor linked his potion-stained fingers together, sat back on his leather-backed chair and turned the full force of his attention to his Slytherin charge.

What he saw was much to his satisfaction. He remembered clearly the start of the boy's sixth year at Hogwarts, walking around the school as if the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders; eyes glassy, unfocussed. Oh, he was still impeccably turned out in his expensively tailored uniform, his gelled hair perfectly in place, and his deportment easily reflecting his aristocratic background. Nonetheless, Draco was the quintessential 'forgotten boy'. In perhaps any other year, Draco might have become a somebody, but it was his misfortune to be in the same year as Celebrity Potter. Just like James Potter, Harry Potter was born under a lucky star that had given him the favour from all whom he met. Everyone thought the world of 'Hero Harry', and in his glorious light, whose meagre light was his equal? No one.

It was a waste, really, for he could see Draco's potential from the first day the boy entered Hogwarts.

There was no doubt that Draco's privileged Pureblood background and his somewhat snobbish manner rankled some of his peers, but with good guidance and maturity, Draco would have turned out to be a sterling Slytherin, his Malfoy heritage notwithstanding.

It was purely his misfortune then, to be cast as the nemesis of that golden boy, even before they began their association here at Hogwarts; if what Draco told him about how he met Potter at Madam Malkin's was true.

Draco never had a chance. As his Head of House, Severus would have had the greatest pleasure in mentoring such raw potential in a student, but his own Wizard's Debt to Lily Potter, and his work for the Order meant that little time could be spared to oversee Draco's development.

Just another example of how bloody unfair it was that that Gryffindor always had things going for him.

And just like a 'forgotten boy', the staff and pupils at Hogwarts were happy to draw a caricature of the spoilt, attention-seeking, poor-little-rich-boy, and leave him as he was. Surely, if Draco was moody, it meant that he was foiled again by Potter in another of their altercation; surely if Draco was not actively participating in class, he was merely hatching another evil plot to get back at Potter for showing him up; surely his avoidance of everyone – even his housemates – was a sign of anger at his father's incarceration at Azkaban!

Fortunately, it was Headmaster Nigellus who brought Draco's depression to his attention. Nigellus had spent the previous summer in Grimmauld Place, ironically inherited by Draco through the laws of entailment upon Black's death. Black—well now, Black was another one of those infuriating idiotic Gryffindors who always had… well, even with his death, Black still haunted him from the grave – just like James. Draco bloody deserved Grimmauld Place! Sirius Black was content to allow that magnificent tribute to the Old Wizarding family rot to ignobility.

His train of thought fast going off on a tangent, he quickly reigned it on course, focussing his piercing onyx eyes on cool grey ones.

Draco knew better than to beat around the bush. He had interrupted his Head of House's private hours, and it was not Slytherin to waste time on inane exchanges of useless polite pleasantries, when Snape knew his visit was one of purpose.

"It's Granger, sir."

An elegant black brow lifted in response.

"She's hardly eating. She cries late into the night. She doesn't do anything in any of the classes we attend. She just sits there and stares into space."

The professor tilted his head, in askance.

"The point is… the point is… I don't know what to do Professor."

Snape considered the immaculately dressed Head Boy in the light of his declaration. Outwardly, the boy appeared as languidly nonchalant as he'd always been. However, on closer inspection, the signs of fatigue appeared in his faint eye bags and troubled grey eyes. Tension around his lips and alertness in his posture also belied his stress.

The silence dragged on as Draco waited for the older man to respond.

"How… long," Snape dragged out in his characteristically soft voice, "has this been going on?"

"For the past five days, sir."

Snape tucked his clasped hands under his chin in thought. "And… has… Miss Granger always displayed this depression?"

"No sir. As a matter of fact, she's usually animated whenever Potter and Weasley visit in the evening. The minute they leave, though—" Draco glanced down to his hands and then looked up into his professor's eyes "—the minute they leave, she goes into an almost catatonic state. I just left her with them to see you this evening."

And as if an emotional dam was released, Draco leaned forward and continued in an almost desperate pleading confession. "I can't get any work done. I don't know what to do." Running his hand through his hair in frustration, he added, "She's not interested in attending class; she says she doesn't see the point. Then she laughs! She laughs and tells me that that was precisely it—she couldn't _see_ the point!"

In a quieter tone, Draco added, "I tried, Professor, I really tried. I offered to help her with her homework, but she refuses to have anything to do with it. She said she'd always studied alone and without her notes and coloured-coded cross index, she can't make sense of what we've gone through the past five days. In class, she'll do the bare minimum of picking up her wand or just sit quietly facing the board. She won't do more and she says she can't do more!

"But she's lying, Professor!" Draco sat up, anger colouring his voice. "I know for a fact that she's at least three chapters ahead of the class!" But as if reaching the end of the storm, he whispered on a sigh, "The fact is, Professor, she's given up. She's given up and I don't know what to do."

Silently, Professor Snape observed the boy once more. Leaning back on his chair, he looked to the ceiling, as if to divine what it has to say to the boy who looked earnestly on his mentor to solve the conundrum for him.

Finally, after what seemed an age, Snape looked back at Draco. "The Wizard's Debt," he intoned, "ensures that the debtor is compelled to work towards the well-being of the benefactor. What you're going through now, the feelings of guilt and frustration—" He paused, remembering his own experience with the Debt. "—these feelings are partly bound in your benefactor's feelings, helping you identify situations wherein your benefactor needs your help."

Draco digested the implication of what Snape said. "But how am I to help her when she doesn't want that help, Professor?"

"I'm afraid, Draco, that is part of the burden you would have to carry."

"But I've never had to take care of another person before, Professor!" Draco snapped.

"Do you really think that I would have recommended you for the position of Head Boy if that were true, Draco?" The professor asked, his voice nary above a whisper.

The calm manner in which the elder Slytherin reacted to Draco's burst of frustration quietened him.

"The truth is, Draco, you've been taking care of the Slytherins since you began here at Hogwarts. Taking care merely means taking responsibility. While our… Slytherin… method of care is not as obvious as what is deemed _care_—" he emphasised in a manner which showed his distaste for the word "—by our brethren Houses, the fact remains, Draco, that we do look out for the welfare of our own."

Draco frowned and chewed his lips, considering what Snape had said.

"Our brand of… _care_… might be harder for non-Slytherins to accept or understand. It might even be misconstrued as unkind or mean, but _exitus acta probat_," he shrugged.

"The end justifies the means."

"Exactly," the professor nodded. "If your current… approach… is not getting results, use a stronger approach. You're a Slytherin, boy!" He pursed his lips, his midnight eyes glittering in amusement, "You're not limited to the softer methods of persuasion."

Draco merely raised a right brow.

"And she's as Gryffindor as they come. Rage, Draco," the professor confided, "is an excellent motivator."

Leaving a moment for the boy to digest his revelation, he added, "Practically, of course, there ought to be some means of helping her cope with her blindness. Unfortunately, there are few in our world who will be able to help you in this area. Blindness is easily treated with magical eyes and other magical remedies. The muggles, on the other hand…" Snape rested his lips on his clasped hands, trailing off.

"I understand, Professor."

"I'm glad you do, Draco. Now, if that is all?"

Recognising his dismissal, Draco thanked his Head of House and left the dungeon office.

He had much to do.

TBC.

* * *

A/N: (14 Jan 11) When I wrote this chapter in July 2005, my laptop had issues with starting up. I had uploaded it into a storage drive, but suffice it to say, it was long lost and forgotten. With the recent relook at my stories, I'm uploading this chapter, and hoping to continue writing to complete this story.

"_Exitus acta probat."_ Latin, "The end justifies the means." I would think that this is one of the unofficial Slytherin mottos familiar to the House.

To clarify, between Harry visiting the Head room and Draco's visiting Snape is an interval of 5 days; I just prefer to move the story along at this point.


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